


Split Decision

by thunder_fish



Category: Ben 10 Series, Cartoon Network Universe: FusionFall, Codename: Kids Next Door, Dexter's Laboratory, FusionFall
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunder_fish/pseuds/thunder_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Dexters should be twice the brain power and twice the fun, right? When one Boy Genius is obnoxiously rude and the other is sickeningly sweet, there's not enough of Ben to go around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Divide and Conquer

_Ben,_

_I know it's been a while. Don't be too surprised if I seem a bit different – it's temporary (I hope)._

_Best regards,_

_Dexter_

The note, written on graph paper in inhumanly perfect print, had been delivered just as Ben had been packing his duffle bag to get the heck away from Mt. Neverest (the most aptly named place on the planet). The timing was deliberate (but everything Dexter did was deliberate) and significant (ditto). The star-struck KND operative that brought it had no idea of what she held and did everything she possibly could to hang around and flirt, but Ben had a SCAMPER to catch back to DexLabs and would have none of it. Slinging his bag over his arm (he was sure Dexter wouldn't mind ordering a Dexbot to do his laundry), he walked out in the middle of a pointless giggle that ended in a disappointed whine. He read the note as he hurried to the hangar where his ride was waiting, and by the time he climbed into the airship, he was frowning.

"Bad news?" wondered Number One, recognizing the 'stationary.'

Ben was still staring at the letter and trying to read between the lines as he plopped into his seat. He turned the paper this way and that. "I dunno. I don't think so. Not completely, anyway." He looked at the leader of Sector V. "You haven't heard anything about Dexter blowing himself up lately or getting turned into a sloth or something, have you?"

"Not lately," Nigel Uno replied, amused. "May I?"

Ben handed over the note, hoping his friend might have some insight to the latest shenanigans going on in DownTown. It had been a while since Ben had managed to get home to DexLabs. While Dexter communicated with him fairly regularly, with an ongoing war and an ongoing romantic relationship they were severely limited to what they could talk about for fear of the messages being intercepted. Most of what they entrusted to phone conversations and emails and the occasional letter (from Dexter – Ben had zero interest in putting pen to paper, though he kept everything Dexter sent him) was vague and bland and said absolutely nothing to the casual observer, but Benjamin Tennyson had become an expert at deciphering what Dexter meant. The letter was a warning, a heads up. Whatever had happened wasn't exactly bad, but Ben needed to be alert.

"Temporary," mused Number One. "That rules out a tattoo."

Ben snorted at the notion. "Maybe not. Maybe he turned himself into a girl again."

Nigel's eyebrows raised high over the top of his sunglasses as he returned the letter. "Again?"

"Second grade was an interesting year for him."

"Sounds it."

_**()()()()()()()()()()** _

Number One smiled faintly to himself as he watched Ben puzzle over the message a bit longer, enjoying the view. There was no denying it – the Wielder of the Omnitrix was quite an attractive young man. He was also a good friend and good company, not to mention a natural leader.

Though nothing had ever been said or even hinted at, Nigel Uno wasn't the leader of Sector V for nothing and he had suspected for some time that there was substantially more than friendship between the neurotic scientist financing the bulk of this war effort and the smoothie addict sitting next to him. Looking back, he was able to pinpoint the likely highs and lows of their relationship by Ben's mood swings over the past year. It was a sea change, obvious only to someone that knew him well, but Ben's whole attitude shifted to happy (or perhaps horny) anticipation whenever he was going to DexLabs and when he left it was as if he was being torn apart. A rocky introduction to Dexter had eventually led to a close friendship and now, unless Nigel was very much mistaken, they were lovers. They hid it very well, thankfully. So much strength joined with so much intelligence – it was a brilliant pairing. On his own each was a force to be reckoned with. Combining all that intensity must be nothing short of amazing in every way imaginable (and for good or bad, Nigel was possessed of a rather vivid imagination). Knowing them both as he did, Nigel wasn't quite sure who he was more envious of – Ben or Dexter.

They were lucky to have each other and Nigel was lucky to have them as his friends. Part of him wished he hadn't hit upon this train of thought because there was no way he could unthink these conclusions or prove anything. Now he found himself reading into Ben's every gesture and trying to figure out how and it related back to Dexter. He wasn't sure if he should be glad or annoyed that both young men had also invaded (and conquered) his teenage fantasies, completely outclassing his Lizzie fantasies in every way, shape, form, position, and technique, and waking him up to an itch he'd never known he had until recently.

But they were his friends, so he kept his silence and their secret and details of his fantasy threesome strictly to himself. Still, he was glad he was piloting the SCAMPER today. Flying the modified bus required his full attention, and it was better and safer, not to mention less embarrassing, to focus on piloting versus the hottie in the co-pilot's seat.

_**()()()()()()()()()()** _

Two hours later the SCAMPER touched down on DexLabs' runway in the pouring rain. He didn't care. Any break from the relentless fighting against the Fusions was welcome. Ben gazed through the rain-streaked windshield, searching the area by the hangars slated for the KND and their various transports for the tell-tale SUVs. Sure enough, three black vehicles were lined up and waiting. He felt himself smile, anxious to see his boyfriend and unknowingly giving Nigel the answer he had been seeking.

"Need a lift?" offered Ben, generous with Dexter's things.

Dexter, Ben, and leather seats were a bit more than Nigel Uno wanted to deal with at the moment. He drove the bus toward the SUVs. "Thanks, but I have the post-flight check to go over and a few things here I need to catch up on."

"Meet up for pie later?" suggested Ben. They were both so busy, but they had made it a habit to take breaks for pie (cherry if they could get it) and ice cream with coffee.

"Deal." He blinked. "Look."

A small, slim figure in white stood outside one of the SUV's, sheltered by an immense black umbrella. Behind him, a wet and unhappy Sgt. Morton stood guard. Ben knew it wasn't the rain that bothered Morton – he had been a Navy SEAL, after all, and being wet was pretty normal for him - it was the fact that his boss was exposed to unfiltered air. Morton didn't do well when Dexter wanted to go outside, but fortunately that only happened about four times a year. On those four occasions though, the blond was always in full-bore grumpy mode. A mother bear protecting her cubs had nothing on Chief of DexLabs Security Charles Phillip Morton.

Number One pulled right up to Dexter and opened the SCAMPER's door. The younger teen grinned broadly and waved a purple-gloved hand.

"Good morning, Benjamin! Good morning, Nigel!" he gushed happily. "Thank you for delivering Ben! I trust you had an excellent flight. It's a little chilly, so I'm having the kitchen deliver some hot chocolate and cookies to Hangar 4 for you and your comrades. I hope you enjoy it."

Ben found himself staring. Usually Dexter was reserved to the point of coldness and he rarely called anyone with a title by their first name if there was the slightest chance of being overheard. This sing-song, enthusiastic, and effervescent Boy Genius was completely atypical and slightly disturbing.

"That's different all right," murmured Ben, not sure of what to make of this development.

"It's temporary," Nigel muttered softly, and then added, "hopefully."

Dexter had not stopped beaming. Ben waved back weakly, glancing at Morton for any sort of reaction, but he'd have a better chance of trying to read a marble statue than the former executive officer. Something told him, however, that the sergeant was fighting for control.

"Pie later," reminded Ben, desperate for reasons he couldn't quite figure out yet.

"Make it a double," confirmed the KND, determined to get the full story. "Good luck."

Taking a deep breath and scooping up his duffle bag, Ben took the plunge. Dexter's umbrella was large enough to shelter them both, so they were quite dry when Morton closed the SUV's door behind them. Immediately Ben noticed the partition that separated the passenger seats from the drivers was down, depriving them of privacy and any chance to sneak a kiss. He'd have to wait for a proper greeting, but for once he didn't mind. Their make out session could wait a bit until he had a better idea of what was up with his boyfriend.

"It's good to see you again," was Dexter's carefully neutral greeting.

"You too," he said in kind. "I got your note."

He nodded. "Good. I'm sure you have numerous questions, but I must ask you to wait please until we get inside. I'll be happy to fill in more details then."

Wordy, grammatically correct, and polite. There was nothing unusual in that, except the tone of voice was so thick with sincerity. Ben's curiosity was roused – among other things – but he let it slide for the moment. "Thanks for picking me up."

Dexter looked at him squarely, his voice dropping slightly. "The pleasure is entirely mine, I assure you, Mr. Tennyson."

In other words, _Let me get you alone and I'll_ show _you how happy I am to see you._ Well, no matter what else was going on, the lust was most definitely there. Reassured, Ben settled back in his seat, ready for some rest, relaxation, and recreation – though not necessarily in that order.

_**()()()()()()()()()()** _

". . . so the increased attacks equate to an increased demand for more, better weapons capable of stopping the Fusion monsters and so forth."

"I hear ya. Makes sense. So what's the latest and greatest?"

"Well, one thing we have in common with Fusion Spawn is water. Their forms contain low levels of moisture and without it in the correct proportion, they, like us, are little more than a mass of chemicals."

"I see where this is going and ew."

"Indeed. I'm developing a device – codenamed Sapsucker – that when remotely activated will instantly desiccate all organic matter within range of its signal."

"Desiccate?"

"Draw all the water out of it."

Ben grimaced. It was a frightening prospect. "What's its range?"

"Right now, a fifteen-foot radius is the theoretical range. Normal production at DexCorp is up, but research and development has lagged simply because . . . well, I understand Neo-Neuroatomic technology the best and the bulk of the innovation and design inevitably falls to me. Essentially, I need to be able to work around the clock, at least until I can finish and fabricate a workable prototype."

"Placing undue stress on your cute self," said Ben under his breath.

Dexter smiled brightly. "Well said, and not just about the stress."

They walked side-by-side through the halls of DexLabs headquarters, Dexter with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, Ben with his hands thrust into his jacket pockets, each extremely aware of the other and working hard to keep his hands to himself. They were heading toward the elevator to Dexter's underground laboratory so Ben could see the latest, greatest version of the Megabot.

"So what's your solution?" asked Ben, knowing that Dexter would not be so serene if he didn't have all the answers already.

The elevator doors opened and Dexter gestured Ben onwards. "Something unorthodox and while not exactly dangerous, not without its risks. Allow me to show you, please."

"Did you clone yourself again?"

"Not quite. Computress, to the laboratory."

The ride across and down was smooth and fast. Ben was seriously debating throwing caution to the wind and yanking the redhead in for some non-verbal communication when the doors opened again and they were in the lab.

"When I was eight and at the height of my obnoxious arrogance," said Dexter in a matter-of-fact tone, sparing himself nothing as he lead the way, "I thought to remove what I perceived as all the negative aspects and emotions from DeeDee in order to make her somewhat tolerable to my senses. I therefore created a device I called the Rude Removal System. Due to her antics and my lack of control, we both fell into the removal chamber. The results were as planned – the machine removed all our rude, crude, violent, impulsive tendencies and manifested them in exact copies of us, leaving behind all the mannerly kindness and polite aspects."

Ben stopped in his tracks, finally knowing exactly where this was going. "You're kidding me."

Dexter smiled. "Not kidding, my love."

"You made your own evil twin? Dexter!"

"I wouldn't call him evil, seeing as how he's part of me. I thought to isolate aggression, little realizing at that tender age that a balance of soft and hard is needed in one's personality in order to be whole. The fact that the rude versions of both me and DeeDee were practically identical should have been an indicator that we are equal parts of nice and . . . naughty," he finished, giving Ben a shy, sideways glance.

"Hold on, Dex." Feeling his brain grind to a halt, Ben stopped, turning Dexter around to face him. Keeping his hands on those narrow shoulders, he quietly asked, "Are you saying there are two of you now?"

There was noise off in the far reaches of the laboratory, the sound of hammering on metal. Ben looked up, searching the depths for the source. Another person in the laboratory besides Dexter was so unusual that the sound seemed positively eerie.

The cool touch of latex covered his hand as Dexter gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. "Yes."

"You did this to yourself again? What did the Professor say?"

The hammering stopped, and there was a distant, echoing sound of someone moving about.

"He's not happy, not by a long shot, but he can't deny the results have been fairly satisfactory thus far and we have managed to get quite an astonishing amount of work done. He's quite put off that I didn't consult him before acting, but I reasoned it was better to ask forgiveness than permission."

"But you said your other self was all violent and aggressive and stuff."

"Mmm, he's all that, but with maturity has come self-control far greater than what I had when I was eight. In that aspect, the results are highly successful. Despite his rather off-color vocabulary and surly attitude, he's as brilliant as I and considerably more focused."

Ben turned as someone approached, bracing himself even though he knew who it was. An almost exact copy of the young man standing beside him was walking toward them, his coat and gloves spattered with grease and a piece of armor plating in his hands. Ben found himself gaping - not at the fact that he now had a spare boyfriend, but because this new Dexter wasn't freaking out over being dirty. Dexter smiled to see himself, but the rude version glowered.

"So it's amateur hour again?" he grumbled, giving the chipper Dexter a sour look. His hard gaze shifted to Ben, making him feel as if he was a pork chop dangled before a hungry dog. "It's about freakin' time you got your ass back here, Tennyson. You know how long it's been since I've seen you?"

"Language, Dexter," admonished Dexter virtuously. He looked at Ben. "He promised Dad he'd curb his proclivity towards profanity."

The newcomer rolled his eyes in undisguised disgust. "Dad's not here."

"The promise stands."

"Whatever. Did you remember to get the specs for the heat shield to the foundry?"

"Uh . . ." It was the polite copy's turn to grimace and his answer was immediately evident. "No?"

Dexter leveled a hearty glare at Dexter. "I told you to do one stinking, lousy thing for _me_ , which is the same thing as _us_ , you moron, and you screwed it up."

"Hello! I was distracted!" Dexter gestured at Ben as if the presence of one green-eyed brunet was a valid excuse to leave simple jobs unfinished.

Shaking his head, the bundle of negative energy snapped, "I'll do it!"

"No, no! I won't hear of it!" protested the softer-spoken model. "I'll do it. I'll go do it right now. I promise I won't forget this time. You keep Benjamin entertained." Dragging Ben forward by the sleeve, he swapped the piece of armor for Ben's hand as if he needed constant looking after. "I'll be back!"

"Yeah, I was afraid you were going to say that," muttered Dexter. He watched his nice half head for the elevators, the armor plate held out at arm's length in case of grease. "Maybe the doors will crush him. How the hell are we the same person?"

"I heard that!" sang Dexter from afar.

"You were supposed to, idiot!"

Still holding Ben's hand - and looking rather disinclined to let go - Dexter looked up at Ben. A pissy Dexter wasn't anything new and like the Professor, Ben rather enjoyed the redhead's fiery temper, but this one carried it to an extreme. His eyes narrowed as he looked Ben up and down.

"I take it you're confused."

"That's an understatement," admitted Ben Tennyson gamely.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't."

"Understated?"

His sneering expression never changed. "Confused."

"Thanks . . . I think."

"It's not a compliment and don't think, Ben, you'll just get hurt."

"Hey!" he exclaimed a moment later, realizing he'd been insulted. He could say with certainty that had never happened before in Dexter's company, and so he wasn't looking for it. "That was . . ."

"Rude?" finished Dexter with a nasty little smile. "Welcome to my world."


	2. Two for One

"At least he warned you. I was minding my own business and trying to chart whatever passes as DNA for Junkasauruses when suddenly I had two sons fighting over who got to work the electron microscope."

Ben was sitting in the library of the Utonium's suite, feeling shocky and almost wishing he'd accepted the Professor's offer of something stronger to drink than coffee as he fought to wrap his brain around the situation.

"I don't know if it helped any," admitted Ben, hoping the Professor didn't think he was whining. "It's really weird, like . . . he's been split down the middle."

"He has."

"I spent the last three hours alternating between being insulted and treated like I'm helpless."

"One called me a pillock and a stuffed shirt while the other one offered to cut my steak for me. It's been interesting, but I've got them to agree to behave and work together. Dexter knows what we're up against and he takes the war seriously, at least."

"Who knows?"

"Just a handful of people - Morton, Mr. Green, Mandy."

Ben made a noise like _"yeesh!"_ as he imagined two Dexters to one teacher. "Poor Mr. Green."

"Oh, Kilroy was a substitute teacher for twenty years," said Utonium dismissively. "He's more than a match for His Rudeness."

"What do the girls think?"

"DeeDee didn't notice when she visited on Saturday. Blossom preemptively put them both in their place and now they're afraid of her. Bubbles adores the nice version and he beta read all the fanfic she wrote. Buttercup and the rude version just feed off one another and try to gross each other out."

Ben stared, having been exposed to Bubbles' sugar-coated, super kawaii desu Bexter-kun fanfic. "Tell me he didn't like the fanfic."

"I wish I could. He cried. A lot."

"Oh, god." Ben buried his face in his hands, quietly horrified and embarrassed. One of him. Two Dexters. Granted the sexual fantasies were pretty appealing from a personal point of view, but the fanfic possibilities were nothing short of terrifying. His only hope of survival lay in Bubbles' innocence and lack of imagination. Unless Buttercup had already gotten to her . . . right. Not a chance. "Oh, god."

Utonium mused thoughtfully, "Amazingly, even though he's nicer, he's the more annoying of the two."

Suddenly the door slammed open and Hurricane Dexter arrived. He tried to fill the doorway, but he was really too short to be imposing. It struck Ben that Dexter's quiet dignity and poise were so much more impressive - not to mention intimidating – than this loud aggression.

"You twits done talking about us?"

A second redhead popped around the corner, squeezing past his counterpart. "Don't call our father a twit!" Saint Dexter exclaimed, scandalized.

The rude Dexter rolled his eyes. "Fine. Yo, twit. Yo, stuffed shirt. Done talking about us?"

"No, but we can finish the conversation later," Utonium replied in reasonable tones, not rising to the bait.

Seeing them side-by-side, Ben took a moment to study his boyfriend. Boyfriends? Boyfriend 2.0? +1? Whatever. Bubbly or grumpy, they were both cute, though now that they were still for a moment he could see they weren't quite identical. They both had that cowlick atop their heads, but Rude Dexter's hair was straighter and a little darker. The Nice Dexter's face was rounder, making him look a little younger. Their expressions were radically different, but Ben was used to seeing smiles and scowls on Dexter. Getting both expressions at once was a little weird, but that was par for the course right now. Their body language was the same, and though they both stood with their hands on their hips and their heads canted, one managed to ooze annoyance while the other gushed indulgence.

"We're going back to the laboratory," cooed the polite version, clasping his hands in excitement. He wiggled like a puppy, which caused his twin to roll his eyes. "We have so much lovely work to do."

"No shi-"

Warned Utonium, "Dexter."

"Kidding," he amended dryly, distributing glares all about. "If I can get scatterbrain here to focus a little, we should be able to get caught up by tomorrow night."

Nice Dexter beamed. "If!"

"Shut up, idiot."

"Boys," he said, trying to keep them from needling each other. "That's good to hear. Is there anything we can do to help?"

Ben highly suspected he would be more relieved to have one son back than to get production at DexCorp back up to speed.

"No meatloaf for dinner," ordered the short and cranky dictator. "I hate that crap. Get us something decent to eat for once and something deep fried and covered in chocolate for dessert."

"Fair enough," said the Professor. He looked at the happy-clappy copy. "Dexter?"

"Dad, I'm sure that anything you choose to serve for dinner will be delicious." He nudged his twin. "Don't be so inconsiderate, Dexter. Benjamin, would you like to read to me in French while I focus?"

Caught, Ben hesitated. "Uh . . ."

He clapped his hands in excitement and all but squealed, "Goody! I can help you with your pronunciation and correct any booboos you might make."

"See what I mean?" asked Utonium under his breath.

_**()()()()()()()()()()** _

". . . and so I had to explain to Bubbles that _sinister_ , meaning left, is the opposite of _dexter_ , meaning right, and so for her story's exposition to describe the 'dark' version of Dexter's appearance as sinister was an oxymoron because she was essentially saying that right was left!"

Fist pounding the table, Dexter laughed himself breathless at his own wit. Ben quietly gaped, never before having been bored silly in Dexter's presence. It was a novel experience, but he desperately wished he'd shut up about fanfic starring the both of them.

"Guess you had to be there," he finally muttered.

He was doing everything he could to keep the polite copy of his boyfriend on track and working and the results, as far as he could tell, were indifferent. In the meantime, the rude copy was focused to the point of obsessed, as scary as his other half was annoying. Ben felt very much stuck in the middle as one Dexter designed (or tried to) and the other fabricated. It didn't help that they were working on opposite ends of the laboratory (though that was undoubtedly the safest option) and Ben felt obligated to make sure both Dexters were okay, meaning he got a lot of walking done. It was also exasperating. One Dexter ignored or growled insults and orders at him, the other tried to kill him with kindness when it really wasn't called for. Every time he came back, the polite Dexter's attention had wandered off (or he had) and it took major effort to get him back to the work station and to reapply himself. He'd never worked so hard at this boyfriend thing before in his life.

"Have I done something wrong, Benjamin?"

The abrupt seriousness in Dexter's voice caught him off guard. "Wha?"

Abandoning his design work, he turned to face Ben. "I know should have told you before you came, not just sent you a note, but it's been so long since you've been able to get home that I didn't want to deny myself or you the opportunity to spend time together. I miss you so much when you're at the front, and I was afraid if I told you everything you might not come. I know I'm irritating you. I don't mean to, my love. It's just that this part of me isn't as . . . intense."

He looked so small and put out and worried that Ben was incapable of holding on to his frustration. Yeah, he was maddening, but he always had been and what he was doing, he was doing to move the war effort forward. It was costing him, too and he was painfully aware of Ben's attitude.

"You're irritating no matter what, Dex," he replied. "It's one of the things I love most about you." And he did love that and the fact that Dexter totally got his brand of teasing.

A genuinely happy smile was his reward. Dexter leaned on his hand, taking in the view. "Then right now you must be absolutely smitten."

Ben mirrored his stance. "To put it mildly."

"I owe you an apology, too."

"Why?"

"I was impolite. I didn't greet you properly."

Ben made a face, pretending to mull over his options. "Feel free to make up for lost time."

Immediately Dexter was on his feet and straddling Ben's lap, his momentum sending the chair rolling to the center of the work station. He cupped Ben's face in both hands and proceeded to steal his breath away. Soft, warm lips pressed against Ben's mouth and a hard, hot groin ground against his hips. Instinctively his hands slid up beneath Dexter's lab coat to grip his narrow waist and pull him in closer. A hum of pleasure escaped Dexter's throat, echoed by a hungry growl from Ben's as they got down to the very gratifying business of trying to devour one another.

This part of him wasn't as intense? Ben's brain refused to believe that statement as he pulled at Dexter's clothes, trying to figure out how to get him undressed without letting go or making any move that would dislodge Dexter's oh-so-talented tongue from his mouth. It was an interesting challenge to say the least and one he wasn't up to meeting at the moment because his roving hands had found bare skin and Dexter's hands were working on loosening the waistband of his jeans.

Why the hell did they always try to do this sort of thing in the most inconvenient spots possible? A Megabot. The piano stool. The gap between the couch and the coffee table. A whole expansive lab around them and here they were jammed into a chair trying to have sex. What was wrong with a bed?

Then again, thought Ben as Dexter paused long enough to peel off those latex gloves, who the hell needed one?

Suddenly the sound of metal smashing plastic made them jump apart. Startled, awkward, fumbling, Ben lunged to keep Dexter from falling off his lap as he looked for the source of the interruption. Dexter. Ben had forgotten they weren't alone down here . . . not really. Guilt seized him. They were supposed to be working. The other Dexter _had_ been working while they . . .

Struggling to straighten his glasses and get his bearings back, Dexter twisted about to face his counterpart. The other Dexter was beyond furious, beyond hurt, and almost beyond reason. Ben felt the young man on his lap suck in his breath in a gasp. Following his gaze, Ben saw the shattered remains of the Sapsucker prototype amidst the wreckage of Dexter's computer. A little sound of despair rose up in Dexter's throat at the sight of all their hard work ruined and his other self so incensed.

"And you call _me_ inconsiderate?" hissed Dexter with savage passion. "I'm done here."

He turned and stalked away, throwing his dirty gloves aside as he headed for the blast doors. His voice rose up in a string of fiery curses as he ordered Computress to have the elevator ready. Ben sighed, hanging his head, realizing what he had done and to whom and hating himself for it. Once upon a time he'd sworn not to hurt Dexter ever again, but he'd just managed to do just that - and in spectacular fashion.

Dexter clambered off his lap and went to stare at the wreckage, a despondent look on his face as he lifted the broken pieces of the Sapsucker. Ben hastily straightened his clothes and joined him at the work station to stare at it too.

"Think you can fix it?" he asked anxiously.

By Dexter's tone it was evident he was on the verge of tears. "This? Maybe. Him?" He shook his head and sniffed, looking up at Ben with a helpless gesture. "I don't know." He was trembling, not up to such a confrontation. "I – I need to go find him. I need to apologize."

"Yeah, no." Ben raised both hands, trying to calm him. He suddenly understood Dexter's need to be in two places at once. "I'll go find him, Dex. I'll try to get him to talk. You work on this, I'll work on him."

Dexter nodded, completely hangdog. "All right. Thank you. I'm sorry I've put you in the middle of this, Benjamin."

He answered with bravado he didn't quite feel. "Stuck between two cute redheads. I can think of worse places to be."

Dexter tried to smile. Ben managed it, and then planted a quick kiss atop that red hair before jogging toward the elevators.


	3. Double Negative

"Dex – hey! Hey! Dexter! Computress, hold the elevator!"

"Computress, ignore him."

"No! Computress, don't listen to him!"

"Computress, close the doors."

The super computer obeyed her creator. Ben dashed forward, only to slide to a halt as the doors shut right before him, cutting him - and Dexter's stormy look - off. He groaned, not able to resist the temptation to bang his head against the cold metal. He knew Dexter had to be heading back to his family's suite. The fastest way to catch him would be to turn into Big Chill and give chase, but Sgt. Morton hated it when Ben went all alien in the headquarters building.

"Computress, please get me an elevator ASAP," he called, hoping Dexter hadn't taken away his clearance to make use of the computer.

"Right away, Ben," promised the smooth voice, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Has he stopped cursing yet?"

"Not yet."

Great. Just great. "Let me know where he's headed, will you?"

"Home," she replied.

"Thanks," Ben said automatically. Another elevator car arrived and he hurried inside, and without being told Computress whisked him away. Ben leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what to do and say. Considering the situation, that make-out session was horribly timed and pretty inexcusable (though pretty damned enjoyable while it lasted - he could not argue that fact). He knew how the rude Dexter would interpret such conduct - he would assume that Ben preferred the nice version and that he was a social outcast. While he might be right on latter point, the former was most definitely not the case.

Five minutes later he was at the suite. Professor Utonium opened the front door and without preamble asked, "What happened to this half of my kid?"

"He's ticked."

"As if the obvious needs stating."

Speaking of obvious . . . "I screwed up royally."

He was on the receiving end of a long, slow look. "Given the situation, that's pretty hard to avoid. Where's the rest of him?"

"Down in the lab trying to fix the Sapsucker which the cranky half broke becausehesawusmakingout," finished Ben in an indistinct mumble.

Utonium gave him a look that made Ben feel about seven years old and supremely dumb. Then again, Dexter was pissed off at him for making out with Dexter. What about this was sensible?

"This is Dexter we're talking about," the Professor reminded ruthlessly. "Cranky. Jealous. Territorial to the power of territorial. And that's on a good day. What were you thinking?"

Ben grimaced. "Do I have to answer that?"

"Please don't." Folding his arms, the Professor studied his shoes for a moment, pursing his lips as he tried to figure out how to continue the awkward conversation. "Ben . . . no matter what, rude or polite, it's Dexter. He loves you completely, to the point of stupid. And yes, that's a compliment because there aren't too many things he's stupid over. I can think of one: you. It's a difficult situation at best. You're between the devil and the deep blue sea right now."

"I was thinking a rock and a hard place, but somehow your version of saying I'm screwed seems more fitting." He sighed. "Where is he pouting?"

"Just follow the trail of righteous indignation up the stairs. You'll find him."

Sure enough, Dexter's bedroom door was locked. Ben tried the handle, then knocked.

"Dex! Hey! Open up!"

"Go to hell," snapped a muffled voice.

"No. Open up."

Silence.

"Open up or I'll just go alien and come through the door, Dex. You know I will."

The door was yanked open and Dexter stood there in all his seething glory. He gave Ben that adorable sneer that said he was about a minute from death and snapped, "Go eat worms, Tennyson," and promptly slammed to door close right in his face.

"I'm sure a few of my aliens would like that!" Ben called, counting this as progress since Dexter had been unarmed. "C'mon, Dex. I don't want to talk to you door. I want to talk to you."

"I'm not apologizing, jerk!"

He knew by the volume that Dexter was standing right on the other side of the door. That was a very good sign.

"I'm not asking you to. That's what _I_ need to do right now."

The door opened again and a disbelieving genius glared up at him. Ben got right to it and threw himself onto Dexter's not-so-tender mercies, looking his boyfriend squarely in the eye as he said,

"I'm sorry. You've got every right to be pissed. My only defense is that I'll never pass up an opportunity to make out with you."

If ever Benjamin Kirby Tennyson had hit upon exactly the right thing to say, it was at that moment. For one of the few times in his life, his vocabulary was in synch with his emotions and he had his say before he could be insulted or berated again. It was a simple, straightforward truth and one he knew he had in common with Dexter - both Dexters.

"I love you too much and I don't see you nearly enough to waste any chances."

The glare shifted gears from 'take the paint off a battleship' lethal to 'giving me something to think about are we, Commander? Well played, sir' thoughtful mode. There was an extended pause and Ben knew that Dexter was finally applying a bit of logic (inasmuch as it could be applied to this situation). The other Dexter had acted, Ben had responded, this Dexter had reacted, and now Ben was trying to make things right.

Dexter raised his chin slightly in a defiant gesture. Cool and arrogant and angry, he suddenly laid hold of a handful of Ben's t-shirt and yanked him in close for a kiss that left Ben weak in the knees. He tried to hold on but the scientist would have none of that, slapping Ben's hand away. Dexter was in control here and Ben's best option was to sit back and enjoy the ride as he was reminded in no uncertain terms that Dexter was _his_ boyfriend and that _he_ was Dexter's and exactly _why_ these things were so.

God, this kid could kiss. He knew it and he was using every tool available to him: lips and teeth and tongue and his hot, wet mouth that sent a rush of heat through Ben's body and made his pulse pound as he was painfully reminded he was wearing tight jeans. Ben tried to contribute a little tongue wrestling of his own, but Dexter growled and shoved him against the wall, shutting down all attempts to do anything but stand here and take everything Dexter wanted to dish out. This commanding, demanding little tyrant was a far cry from his accommodating counterpart. Down in the lab Dexter had given Ben what he most wanted, but now the roles were reversed and Dexter was taking. Up to now their relationship had been balanced, but with two Dexter's that were so polarized, balance had been swept away by their extremes, taking Ben right along with the current.

Ben had never been so completely turned on his life. And that was saying something.

Just as abruptly as it started, the kiss ended and Ben was released with a little shove back. He hit the wall again and spread his hands for balance, his brain reeling and chest heaving and his blood getting back into circulation. Blinking to regain his focus, he stared at Dexter in shock and wonder and something not far removed from awe. Dexter smirked, pleased with the results. Clasping his hands behind his back, he leaned in very, very close to whisper soft and seductive,

"Just because I'm not nice doesn't mean I can't be good."

There was no disputing that fact. He looked like that cat that ate the canary - or maybe in this case, the scientist that seduced the hero. It was a really good look for him, one Ben hoped to see often in the future. Things were definitely back on track again. Ben managed to make a strangled little sound that came out more pathetic than sexy, the link between his vocabulary and his emotions having been demolished the moment their lips met.

"I'm going back to the lab," announced Dexter, running his hand beneath Ben's chin to trace a finger across his lips. He wore a little snarl that Ben recognized as Dexter's universal look of determination. Now was not the time to get in his way. "There's a lot that needs doing yet. I'll send for you later, Mr. Tennyson. Go amuse yourself a few hours."


	4. Pie Are Squared

"I take it you want to talk."

"What gave it away?"

Number One flashed the display screen of his communicator. "Forty-six separate emails of cherry pie pictures in a span of three minutes, twenty-two seconds, sent to my comm unit."

Ben smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I asked Computress to spam you until you answered. Sorry. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Nigel shrugged, not really put out. "You saved me from having to deal with the fallout of Him giving the Scotsman a fashion makeover."

Coffee mug in hand, Ben paused, trying to stop his brain from imagining such a thing and failing. Even in his imagination, it was the stuff of nightmares. He shuddered, consoling himself with a mouthful of cherry filling. "Whoa. You're welcome."

"Mmm," agreed Nigel. "Excessive, but effective and well-timed. I got to plead an emergency and now they're Assistant Scoutmaster Slinkman's problem. The power of delegation is very handy in this sort of situation." In no way ashamed, he raised a forkful of cherry pie in salute, watching Ben keenly as he asked, "So, did you figure out what was wrong with Dexter?"

The change in Ben's expression was subtle but visible if you were looking for it, and Nigel knew he'd hit the nail on the head when the brunet's features softened the least bit.

"Yeeee-ah," Ben said carefully. "He's sorta having a split personality issue . . . thing."

"Permanent?" asked Nigel, knowing anything was possible with Dexter.

Ben grimaced. "I hope not. Why do these things still surprise me?"

"Because you're not jaded. Has this . . . issue affected the development of the Sapsucker?"

"You know about that?"

"Mandy mentioned it."

"Yeah, you might say one's affected the other. It's not working so well right now."

"I'm sure it'll get sorted. We know what Dexter's like when he's set his mind to something."

"En how," muttered Ben.

Glancing at the table, the leader of Sector V saw a need. "More pie?"

"Yeah."

Nigel fetched them each another slice, unobtrusively watching Ben as he returned to their corner of DexLabs' cafeteria. He knew his friend wanted, _needed_ to say more, but couldn't. As a KND operative, Nigel understood perfectly the need for secrecy, but he also knew that Tennyson was a talker. Still, there were ways around roadblocks and ways to say things without betraying confidences. Implying and speaking in abstract terms still left room for denial, and a subtle hint could carry a wealth of information. It was time to get vague and get Tennyson to spill the beans.

"So," he said, setting the pie in front of Ben. "Dexter."

_**()()()()()()()()()()** _

"Have you seen him lately?" asked Ben, tucking in.

"No, but that's nothing unusual. Most of our communication is via email."

"Has he been in touch lately? Like the last week or so?"

"Yes, and now that I'm talking to you, his feedback makes sense. He did an analysis of the last battle in Sector M. Half the comments were scathing and the other half were ridiculously enthusiastic. It was as if he turned into a very sarcastic cheerleader."

"That's Dex right now. More than normal, I mean."

"Mmm. How is his family?"

Ben tried not to think of the polite Dexter sobbing over Bexter fanfic. "Tolerant."

"Well, that's good. How are you dealing with it?"

"I really don't have to, but . . ."

By the tilt of his head, he knew that Nigel was rolling his eyes. "Oh, please, Commander. You _must_ be dealing with it. You live at the Utoniums' when you're here. I bet you haven't even noticed your quarters have been reassigned."

"They have?" wondered Ben, astonished and a little put out.

"Four months ago," Nigel said dryly, his accent lending greater emphasis to the words.

"Where'd all my stuff go?"

"We gave it to Professor Utonium. He said he'd put it in the spare bedroom."

Ben sat and thought, suddenly remembering a few items that he'd left in his quarters that he'd seen in his bedroom – a few pictures, some clothes, a handful of knickknacks. He was so used to them he had never even thought to question their appearance. A little anxiously, he leaned forward and whispered, "Uh . . . does everybody know?"

"Doubtful, given the number of troops we move through here on a regular basis. Why? You seem nervous."

"I do?" squeaked Ben.

"Is there something about your sleeping arrangements that should cause concern?"

"No," he said a little too quickly to be believed.

Nigel smiled. "Don't get so worked up. You think anyone cares? Besides, the Utonium children are notoriously attractive. It's got to be a lot more pleasant waking up to them than a lot of the recruits we've gotten lately."

He thought of the occasions he'd woken up beside Dexter and how he made for such a cute zombie before he'd downed his second cup of coffee. "There is that." He finished the last bite of pie and felt the need to fortify himself even more. "I want another. You?"

"Sure."

_**()()()()()()()()()()** _

"Can I ask you something?" Ben asked seriously, setting a third slice of cherry pie and a fresh mug of coffee in front of his friend.

"Fire away," invited Nigel.

"This might come across as a little weird, but have you ever been in love?"

Paydirt. Nigel Uno resisted the urge to cheer, smirk, or get his hopes up. With a carefully schooled expression, he stirred sugar into his coffee before clarifying,

"With a person?"

"Yeah."

He didn't answer immediately, but ate a mouthful of pastry as he weighed the question. "A deeply philosophical question with no easy answer. Typical of a teenager." He pointed with his fork for emphasis.

Ben grinned. At eighteen he was one of the oldest fighters in this war, strange as it seemed, and that was excellent teasing material as that made him the natural enemy of the KND. " _You're_ a teenager."

Conceding the point with an easy gesture, Number One stressed, " _Reluctantly,_ Commander. Very reluctantly and I'll deny my age in mixed company. But to answer your question, Ben, I love a great many people, but to be in love is something quite different, isn't it?"

"Yeah," agreed Ben.

"I take it you're speaking from experience?"

It was useless to deny. They knew each other too well. Nigel wanted to know purely for his own satisfaction and because wanted Ben to be able to confide in him without fear of betrayal. Secrets could be very heavy burdens, and while he had no desire for Ben to tell all, it would be enough for his friend to be comfortable enough to share even just a little. The mere fact that he was comfortable enough with Nigel to discuss something as intimate as love was very telling of the trust between them. It was its own form of love and friendship, one they both valued highly even if it went mostly unsaid.

"Yeah."

"I think . . . no, I know there were a number of people I could have been in love with. I like Lizzie, but I can't see myself spending my life with her. She wants to change me and sees the KND as competition. I suppose it could be argued I'm in love with the Kids Next Door."

Ben shifted to display the Omnitrix glowing on his wrist. "Just like I'm in love with this hero gig."

"Perhaps it's the crushing responsibility we love."

They were silent for a moment, considering.

"Naa," both young men said in unison, shoveling in mouthfuls of pie.

"I like the aliens," admitted Ben as he chewed.

"I like my rocket shoes."

"Yeah, those are cool."

Nigel leaned on his hand, idly chopping the thick crust of the pie to crumbs. It seemed only fair to offer something in return for what he was asking of Ben, and so he said, "I love the KND and my team and the sense of triumph when a mission is fulfilled. I love the 2x4 tech and all the places being an operative has brought me and all the adventures and living by my wits. If I could find a person that made me feel all those things . . . now that would be an accomplishment."

Ben smiled distantly. "Yeah," he sighed. "It is."

"He's very lucky."

"So am I," Ben replied unconsciously. There was a pause, and then he realized what Nigel had said. He froze, open-mouthed. Drawing a sharp breath, he was on the brink of denial when it occurred to him he really didn't have anything to fear. Not here. Not with Nigel.

Nigel Uno didn't change his comfortable stance, but he did smile to see Ben's anxious reaction. "Don't worry, Commander. Your secret is safe with me."

He settled back in the chair. "What secret?"

"Yes, that one." He pushed himself up. "More pie?"

"Thought you'd never ask."


	5. Split Ends

Standing in an elevator, staring into middle space as he fought off a food coma, Ben was rather regretting having that fourth slice of cherry pie, but he didn't regret his talk with Nigel. Unlike Kevin's resentment of Ben having a love life, Nigel had made it perfectly clear that he simply wanted Ben to know he was there if needed. That was all - a willing and understanding friend, someone without an agenda and only his best interests in mind. Though their conversation had steered to safer channels, it was nice to know that he had someone beyond Professor Utonium to vent to, even though no names of boyfriends had been asked or mentioned or ever would be before Dexter gave the okay.

They had been interrupted by the arrival of a platypus Bean Scout. The cranky and bitter scout was clearly annoyed at having to hand deliver a blank piece of graph paper, but Ben had understood perfectly well that he was now allowed (and expected) back in the lab. He groaned as he stood up, his stomach protesting.

"Next time, chili fries," he suggested, supremely stuffed.

"Deal," groaned Nigel, incapable of movement. He had been cured of his cherry pie craving. They both had, though they had consumed enough calories to get them through a short battle and Nigel had fuel enough to keep his fantasies going full steam ahead for at least a month.

The laboratory was brightly lit and classical music was playing over the speakers when he arrived. Ben didn't recognize the music, but it was very dramatic and appealing and he paused for a few seconds. He listened for sounds of arguments or cursing or crying, but the only thing he could hear was the sweeping music.

He slowed his steps as he approached Dexter's work station in order to appreciate the view. The two Dexters were working side-by-side, and Ben almost laughed to see the polite copy rocking back and forth, his feet moving in a silly little dance as he sang along with the music. By comparison the rude Dexter was stock still, casting snarling glares at his twin now and then as he typed.

"Shut up with the singing," growled His Crankiness, seething.

"La, lala – no, no, no, nonono," sang his counterpart, never missing a beat as he spun his chair around. He spotted Ben, and his face blossomed into a broad smile.

"Benjamin! So glad to see you! Do you like our music?"

He picked up the pace. "Yeah, it's nice. What is it?"

" _Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity,_ by Gustav Holst. That and coffee were the only things we could agree upon." He saluted with a bright purple mug.

"I wanted Alien Death Hammer's live album," volunteered the rude Dexter, not looking away from his work. "The uncensored one."

"And I wanted the soundtrack to _The Sound of Music_."

"This is nice," Ben quickly said before he was treated to samples of either boy's taste in music. "You two okay?"

"We had a lovely chat -"

"No, we didn't."

"He's bluffing. We talked and agreed that despite the high volume of output we've managed -"

"That _I_ managed," interrupted the other.

"You're me, I'm you, I designed, you built." He turned back to Ben. "We concluded the situation is unduly stressful on all concerned and so focused our efforts in order to -"

Fed up with his loquacious half, the other Dexter finally looked up and snapped, "I strong-armed Bozo here to apply himself and we're finally caught up." He waved imperiously at the remade Sapsucker prototype sitting safely under a cloche on a nearby shelf.

"Yes!" beamed Dexter, bouncing in his seat and so pleased with their results that he overlooked being interrupted again. His delight was infectious, and Ben grinned back.

"So now what?" wondered Ben, maneuvering to sit down on the desk between their computers. He picked up a mug of coffee - he wasn't sure whose - and took a drink. It was terribly sweet - the nice Dexter's cup, he assumed. Probably the stuff in the rude copy's mug was strong enough to strip the enamel off his teeth.

The brusque Dexter planted a foot on his twin's chair and shoved, sending him rolling across the work station, giggling all the way. Shaking his head in disgust, he looked at Ben.

"We don't need two of me anymore."

Ben looked between the two redheads, one so moody, the other rolling around the work station like a pinball. "You're going to reverse the removal process?"

"Weeeeeeeee!" Dexter rolled by.

"That, or I'm going to murder him for being a twit," he said with complete sincerity. "Either way there will be one of us."

"Yeah, let's hold off on the murder/suicide thing, Dex," suggested Ben hastily.

Behind thick glasses, he rolled his eyes, standing. "Come on, jerk, let's get this over with."

Ben frowned. "You're going to reverse it right now?"

Rude Dexter frowned right back, adding a little sneer for effect. "What, you want goody two shoes to stick around?"

Faced by the proposition of just one boyfriend, Ben suddenly realized that he would miss these two in some weird way he couldn't quite articulate. "Does it have to be right now? I mean, now that you guys are done . . . maybe we could spend a little time together? How often will I get to have two copies of my boyfriend unless one of them is bright green and has glowing red eyes and wants to kill everything?"

Nice Dexter came rolling to a stop next to his counterpart, bumping into him just hard enough to shake him where he stood. The two scientists stared at Ben in open surprise, and for once their expressions and their emotions were identical.

"That's so romantic!" gushed the polite Dexter, clasping his hands.

"No, it's not! It's insane!"

"Phooey. It's an adorable and charming gesture and we would be impolite to turn it down."

"Whatever. I'm in." He gave Ben a challenging look. "So, what's the plan, loverboy?"

"We could make popcorn and watch movies and play video games and -"

Taking the coffee mug from Ben's hand, the cranky Dexter proceeded to dump the contents right over the head of the chatterbox. Shocked, Dexter gasped, looking down as his pristine lab coat was defiled.

"Shower," ordered His Rudeness.

With a little scream of horror at being dirty, the distraught redhead ran full-tilt toward the blast doors, whimpering all the way.

"Was that really necessary?" chastised Ben, feeling bad for the nice copy.

"Yes."

Pushing Ben's knees wide, his remaining boyfriend stood right before his perch on the work station, blocking any movement save straight through him. Once again he laid hold of Ben's shirt and jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. While not as long-lasting, it was as enjoyably invasive as the last time and left Ben burning for more and wondering if Dexter would be willing to split himself again for Ben's birthday in December.

"Do you remember our Rule #1?" asked Dexter in a husky voice that actually managed to make that crazy accent sound seductive.

Ben had to think, his mind on other things far more immediate and interesting that were centered around Dexter's tongue and that hungry look in his eyes. From the start they had established a set of ground rules that were aimed at making them communicate and work together to get the most out of their relationship.

"That the one to give as good as you get?"

"That's #2." He leaned in to whisper into Ben's ear. "The first rule is: _Don't do anything you don't want done to you."_

"I remember now."

"Do you remember what you did the last time you were here?"

He knew what Dexter was getting at - it was one of his favorite memories to date - but it was also erotic and sensual enough to bring a blush to Ben's cheeks. Dexter was smug at having generated such a response.

"Remember what you did to make me scream your name?"

"Heh-yeah."

"Remember how I could barely move the next day?"

A little nervous, a little hopeful, and a little smug himself, Ben smiled with sheepish pride. "Yeah."

Dexter smirked with wicked anticipation.

"Your turn, Mr. Tennyson."


End file.
